The Unknown Sea

ent here by some secret, easier ingress? He drew himself up from the water on the first rock, and, quiet as a watching otter, leant prone

ugh satisfaction. More than once the marbling and stains of the rocks deluded him, so like were they to frescoes-of battle array in confusion under a fierce winged sunset, of sea-beasts crouched and huddled, prone and supine, and again of sea-beasts locked together in strife. He came upon the likeness of a skull, an ill omen that dealt him a sudden thrill of superstitious fear. It needed close scrutiny in the vague light to decide that no hand of man had shaped all these. Once light broke in from above, and he s

im in the vast of beauty and mystery. In a moment he also realised that the lowest tiers of rocks had vanished below the water. The tide was rising. Hurriedly he shot away for return, and groped along the dim passage. Th

with the best swimmer alive. He scrambled up to a shoulder to get a sight of the reefs that had helped him on his way; the nearest was already gone, and a tumbling whirlpool marked its place. Except in the slack of the ebb i

ted it not wholly with regard to comfort of body; its high remove above the mysterious footprints lent it best recommendation. For with growing darkness came a dread upon him; in an access of arrant superstition he conceived of some unimaginable thing stealing near upon woman's feet. Reason stood up for

worn. The resolution, the firm reason he had relied on for defence, began to quail before dread odds. What wonder? That day such an assault against reason had been made

are sincerity ruled his spirit, an essential quality if prayer be

ss. All night he knew, aloft on the cliff in the desolate bell tower, a monitress would serve each bell, and two would wait on a beacon-light, and the prayers of the five would not cease for souls of the living and souls of the dead, victims to fell powers of the sea. Ah, blessed bells! And ah, dear saints whose names they bear!-St. Mary, St. Margaret, St. Faith

e, and as she mounted the dark clear-cut shadows of the rocks shrank. The lad slept the dreamless sleep of healthful weariness, till midnight was long past, and a wid

ed as he was, so he crept from his niche and dropped to the sands below, to pace away numbness. Only a few steps he took; then he stood, and not from cold he trembled. A line of

t clung round the margin of rock-girt sand. Ha! there in the shadow moves something white; it is gliding half hidden by boulders. A human figure goes there at ease, rising,

d hair is black as are the night-shadows. Oh! she comes. Does she see? does she care? The light, swift feet bring her nearer, straig

his eyes to the ground. He felt a shame she could not know, for her shadow moved, her white feet came within the range of his lowly vision. P

t before the sign stepped back uneasily; yet her beauty remained unblighted. Then must it be that a sea-witch could be young and fair

such defiance as she would not suffer. She clapped her hand

dead man. D

f, and the gleam of her eyes was like the keen, sharp glitter of a treacherous sea. For he had not seen, when his eyes had been on the ground, on her feet,

ap-piled high! But you alone of many a score having set foot alive in this my garden-by strength, or courage, or cunning-no matter how, your momentary success shall receive some recognition. Maybe

the power to make goo

th before now,' h

re her, with eyes that did not waver, and words like proud di

s; or set a watch of sharks about my garden to tear your live limbs piecemeal when you venture hence; or make the waves my a

y-haired couple, who, bereft of him, would go to the grave sorrowing. They faced each other in silence, as two wrestlers mark each the other's strength. A strangely unequal pair! The tall lad, long-limbed, muscular, broad-chested, the weight of whose fin

quailed, and softening, was half

or your life; perchance

rovel to her, a witch? A rin

'I kneel and pray onl

he meant that her h

u defy me? Do you not know tha

ave done amiss, my life be given in

low. She stood quite silent. Then she looked about her as though she s

Ay, I remember something: I had a soul once; but it is gone-dead. I gave it in exchange for sea-life, sea

ied, 'better for you had i

t that would not stoop before her even to escape death. Oh, but she would try for very perfect revenge; not by quick death, cheap and insufficient; not by captivity and slow death-no, not yet.

lips moved. He was praying silently, unmindful of her. With her dark brows drawn together and a smile of scorn she wove cunning p

before him. Her face was mil

me you

isti

n uneasy movement, but recover

r frankly. Her dark eyes were intent upon his face; then they dropped, and t

greedy breed it is dwelling ashore, that must daily be rifling the sea of its silver lives, of its ruddy thickets, and will yield no inch in return. And you have outpassed

ed aside and surveyed the moon-white level

, all mine alone till now-if your shining pools never mirror me again, i

ed as her lament s

u shall have: not a soul shall have word by me of your favoured haunt. Moreover,' he adde

o in peace.' She passed

for his satisfaction. So fair at heart she was too. A first young flicker o

ng, and lifting

ell you, your peril will be more extreme when you try the

' he

nd will be a gull pure white, whose flight you s

ll, I

eem to be going upon certain de

on my word, strictly kept

hrilled like a sea-bird. 'It is my name-Diadyomene-of a good signification for

moving shape show, lessening as she sped across the desolate chasm without. One strip of moonlight lay half-way, at the edge of the retreating sea. There a swift silver-white figure leap

e his senses for accepting fair words and a fair shape as warranty for fair dealing. And till midday reason domineered; while he abode the slack, while he battled for shore, while he mended and launched,

enfranchised, leapt high in exultation, so that with laughter, and glad praise, and proud an